A Genius For Affection
by karenec
Summary: "…we would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright." Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast - Carlisle is starting over. Can he trust himself to open up to a handsome young man with a talent for cooking and comfort? My Entry for the Slash/Backslash 4.0. Awarded Honorable Mention by Judges - so exciting! AH
1. Chapter 1

This was my entry for the Slash/Backslash 4.0 Contest. I was **_totally_** floored to receive a Judges' Honorable Mention. Thanks to the organizers and judges: avioleta, Capricorn75, donnersun, Chicklette, Prassacut, Ms. Ambrosia, and MBMassin.

Thank you to my wonderful beta, Discordia81, for being a rock star word wrangler.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight.

**Warnings: **There will be slash.

* * *

"…we would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright."  
Ernest Hemingway, _A Moveable Feast_

The food truck is visible from the window of the doctors' lounge. It is painted with bright green leaves, and the line of customers stretches a block long. The crowd is always enormous, even when the weather is poor, and Carlisle often sees staff from the hospital in line.

"_Forchette_," says a voice behind him.

Carlisle turns as Esme joins him at the window. "I beg your pardon?"

"The food truck's name," she replies. "_Forchette_."

It takes him a second to recognize the language as Italian and he smiles when the penny drops. "Forks? As in forks and spoons?"

"As in forks and spoons," Esme agrees. "Forks is also the name of the owner's hometown. He grew up in northwest Washington, in a city called Forks."

"With a name like that, I'm guessing the truck serves pizza and pasta."

"You're partly right. They make pasta in that truck, but not pizza. Have you had lunch?"

Carlisle shakes his head. "I was just going. Care to join me?"

"I have rounds in ten minutes; I don't have enough time to eat and get back." She frowns, eying the loose collar of his dress shirt and his baggy pants. "You should go, Carlisle; you could use a good home-cooked meal."

"Lunch from a food truck doesn't qualify as home-cooked, does it?"

"Trust me, the food from _Forchette_ qualifies. Would you mind picking something up for me? Since you're going anyway."

"I hadn't actually decided I was going, Esme."

"Yes, you had. You just needed a little convincing."

OoOoO

It takes fifteen minutes for Carlisle to work his way through the truck's line. He checks his phone, thumbing through emails as he waits. There are a few from his mother and sister, several from friends and coworkers, even one from his father. There is also a message from the name he both yearns and dreads to see. _Jasper._

Carlisle's appetite fades, as it often does when he thinks about his ex. Esme is waiting, however, expecting an order of her favorite pasta, so he sticks it out.

"What can I get you, doc?"

Carlisle's body jerks in surprise when the voice calls from the order window and he pockets his phone with a grimace of apology. "Sorry, you caught me napping."

"I'd say I caught you texting."

He looks up and swallows when he meets a pair of lively grey eyes and a beautiful smile. A young man wearing a black t-shirt and green bandana over his head is waiting for Carlisle's order. He is leaning against the counter while people work busily in the space behind him. His gaze is friendly, but knowing, and seems to look inside Carlisle, making the world around him fade. He forgets about Jasper's text and Esme's pasta, that his legs are tired from walking, and that the spring air is humid.

"You okay, doc? Have you decided what you'd like to order?" The young man's forehead puckers in confusion as he watches Carlisle.

"Oh! Yes, I have." He feels his cheeks grow warm. "Two orders of the pasta with cheese and pepper."

"_Cacio e pepe_, two," the young man calls over his shoulder before looking back to Carlisle. "It's spaghetti today, in case you were interested. Anything else?"

"Two salads."

The young man nods and turns into the truck to work on the order, portioning field greens and whisking dressing. Carlisle has difficulty not staring at his striking looks, and particularly at the half-sleeve of intricate tattoos that curl from under his t-shirt to his elbow. The young man's brow furrows slightly as he works, and his pink lips curl up in enjoyment.

With a wide grin, he places the steaming take-out containers in front of the window and produces a grater and small block of cheese with a flourish. He garnishes the hot noodles with curls of parmesan, followed by several turns from a pepper grinder. The luscious smells of cheese and black pepper rise, waking Carlisle's forgotten hunger.

"Don't wait too long to eat these," the young man says. His long fingers nimbly crimp the plastic covers onto the containers while the inked designs move on his arm. "The sooner you eat this pasta, the better, doc."

"No worries there." Carlisle hands the young man his money and narrows his eyes. "What makes you think I'm a doctor?"

"Your white jacket kind of gave it away."

"Right… lab coat."

The corners of the young man's eyes crinkle with enjoyment.

"Buon appetito," he says, handing the bag and Carlisle's change through the window.

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and Carlisle's face heats again before he turns to go. He gets about ten steps from the truck when the young man's voice rings out again.

"Hey, doc!"

Carlisle turns and blinks. "Yeah?"

"You'll have to let me know what you think of the spaghetti." The young man's smile is impish when he turns to the next customer.

OoOoO

The food is wonderful. When Esme returns to the lounge, Carlisle has finished his meal and is eyeing the second one.

"Told you." She wordlessly pushes her container toward him in invitation to share.

"It's very good. I found some pignoli cookies in the bag, too, though I didn't order them."

"Oh, that's a little bonus for ordering the house special pasta. _Cacio e pepe_ is the owner's favorite dish. He likes to thank the customers who order it."

Carlisle smiles at the thought behind the simple, charming gesture. "That's sweet and rather quirky."

"So is the owner," Esme replies with a chuckle.

OoOoO

Carlisle finds himself in line at the food truck again on Tuesday, under the friendly gaze of the young man in the window.

"Back for more, I see. The spaghetti met with your approval then?"

Carlisle nods and tries not to stare at the young man's lips. "It was very good. Best meal I've had in a while."

He beams. "That's what I want to hear, doc. Can I tempt you with something different today? The gnocchi with pesto is especially good."

"That sounds perfect. And a pignoli cookie, too, please."

The young man's grin warms his eyes. "For you, doc, the cookies are on the house."

OoOoO

On Wednesday, the young man talks Carlisle into the eggplant parmesan panini. He grins when he finds the cookies in his bag, wrapped in parchment paper decorated with a hand drawn smiley face.

Carlisle goes to the hospital cafeteria on Thursday. He sits at a table eating a turkey club and feels strangely let down. Even the chocolate-chip cookie he bought for dessert seems lackluster. As he eats, he realizes that he misses the young man's warm smile as much as he does _Forchette's_ food.

"Goddamn," he says softly to himself, and wonders what he can be thinking.

OoOoO

"Hey, doc." As always, the young man is smiling, though today he seems somehow shy. "I wondered if we'd see you again anytime soon."

"Ah, yeah. I went to the cafeteria yesterday, just for a change."

"And?"

"It was shitty."

The young man's laugh is loud, filling the air with a wonderful sound that turns people's heads. The noise is infectious, and makes Carlisle laugh too.

"In the words of the Borg, doc, resistance is futile," he says his eyes sparkling with enjoyment. "Let me hook you up with today's lasagna. It'll blow your mind."

"Make it two, please," Carlisle replies with a grin. "I owe my coworker some lunch for introducing me to your food."

He hands the bag of food over a few minutes later, and gives Carlisle an apologetic look.

"Not sure if you work weekends, doc, but you'll have to fend for yourself. _Forchette_ handles catering gigs on Saturdays and Sundays."

Carlisle feels oddly deflated. "I'm off tomorrow, and I'll have to brown bag it on Sunday. Have a good weekend-"

"Edward," the young man supplies with an eye-crinkling grin. "My name's Edward."

"I'm Carlisle."

OoOoO

Carlisle and Esme have lunch later the next week and chat over orders of _Forchette's_ house special pasta. Edward slipped not only pignoli cookies into the bag, but also two crusty rolls and a container of herbed butter that makes Esme roll her eyes with delight.

"Garrett and I are having some friends over for dinner Friday night," she says. "Will you come?"

Carlisle wipes his lips and considers how long it has been since he has been to a dinner party. "That sounds nice. I'm off at six."

"Perfect. Be there at seven."

"Can I bring anything?"

"That's not necessary. Still… we can always use more wine at dinner."

"Is that so?"

"Including you, we'll have eight. The chances are high that we'll go through more than a few bottles."

Carlisle's fingers pause as he considers what Esme has said.

"Eight? You're not-" he puts his fork down and shakes his head. "No, Esme. Please tell me you're not setting me up on a date."

"Relax, Carlisle. I wouldn't do that to you. I just happen to have an even number of guests for dinner."

She laughs sweetly when Carlisle looks unconvinced.

"There's no subterfuge or master plan, I promise. My brother and I host these dinners once a month when we can. Dinner and drinks with friends."

"Your friends, Esme; I won't know anyone there."

"By the end of the evening they'll be your friends too," she says, looking at her friend fondly. "Let yourself live a little, Carlisle."

His chest aches at her words. He knows, too, that she has a point. "All right then. Dinner at seven."

OoOoO

Esme presses a kiss to Carlisle's cheek as she shows him in.

"Here's Garrett," she says, beckoning to her husband. "He'll introduce you to everyone. Your timing is perfect; we'll be sitting down in about ten minutes."

Garrett swats his wife's backside gently as she darts by and then shakes Carlisle's hand. "Come on in, Carlisle, and I'll get you a drink."

A glass of Cabernet makes its way to Carlisle's hand, and a stream of names and friendly faces follow. He smiles at Mike and Isabella, and Emmett and Brady, all lovely looking people who seem comfortable and happy in love. He sips his wine and makes small talk while not thinking of the empty space beside him that Jasper once filled.

"And Esme's brother," he says, looking toward the kitchen. "I'm assuming he's cooking?"

Garrett's eyebrows rise with interest. "Edward? He's been here all afternoon. He comes over right after work when he and Mae throw these dinners."

Carlisle blinks. "Edward?"

"Quit saying my name, all of you. My ears are burning."

He turns to see Esme and the young man from the _Forchette_ truck carrying platters of food. They're wearing broad smiles, though Esme's falters when Carlisle frowns.

"Soup's on!" Garrett crows. The others cheer and stand to file past the siblings on their way to the dining room.

Carlisle's initial surprise gives way to a rush of irritation and for a moment, he considers leaving. As he hesitates, Edward catches his eye, flashing that familiar, warm expression that he has come to expect. He forces himself to move, trailing slightly behind the rest of the group.

As he gets closer, he realizes that Edward is more than simply striking; he is beautiful. His uncovered hair is a lighter brown than Esme's and unruly. Instead of a black _Forchette_ t-shirt, he is wearing a blue button-down with his dark jeans. The colors flatter his pink cheeks and deepen the color of his eyes, making them very blue.

"Hey, Carlisle. Mae told me you might be joining us tonight; I'm glad you could make it."

"Hi, Edward." The young man's forehead creases in confusion at Carlisle's cool tone, and he continues in a gentler tone. "Esme mentioned that she had a brother. Though not his name or that I talk to him several times a week."

Carlisle feels a pang of regret when Edward's face falls, and both men turn to look at Esme, who appears flustered.

"Oh, Mae. You didn't," Edward murmurs. A fleeting expression of hurt crosses his face that makes Carlisle feel worse.

"I didn't tell you Edward was my brother," Esme says to Carlisle. "And I see now that I should have. I'm sorry. I just thought the two of you would have made the connection by now."

"Not everything is about you, Mae," her brother scolds.

"I know that. I honestly assumed that it would come up."

Her pretty face is apologetic when she turns back to Carlisle. "I meant what I said. We're here, as friends, to have dinner and some drinks. Nothing more or less. You just have a bit more of a head start with Edward than with the others."

Carlisle nods and she heads for the dining room, where another chorus of cheers ring out. Edward, however, is watching him worriedly, nibbling the corner of his bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "Please don't feel like you need to stay if we've made you uncomfortable, Carlisle. We really are just here to hang out and have dinner. I was looking forward to talking to you some more, that's all. I understand if you'd rather go."

Edward's subdued demeanor is so different from the sunny smile Carlisle has come to expect, that he knows at once the young man is being truthful. The urge to see him cheerful again makes him step closer and lay a hand on his arm.

"It's okay." Carlisle assures when Edward appears doubtful. "I'd love to stay for dinner."

A slow grin lights Edward's face. "Well in that case, I should formally introduce myself." He shifts the tray to his left hand and holds out the right. "Edward Masen."

"Carlisle Cullen. Also known as doc."

"After you, doc," the young man says, and nods toward the dining room.

OoOoO

Dinner is a success. They start with tempura-fried meatballs and a mozzarella caprese salad, emptying two bottles of red wine in short order. Garrett opens more when Esme and Edward serve the second course, a veal osso bucco with polenta.

Carlisle is a stranger to the group, but the conversations flow easily, and he never feels awkward or out of place. He is seated between Garrett and Bella, and across from Edward. The young man is up and down often, clearing and setting dishes, while making sure that everyone is happy. Their conversations are disjointed as a result, but their eyes and smiles often meet, and Carlisle becomes increasingly intrigued as the evening passes.

"No house special pasta tonight?" he teases as Edward takes his plate.

"I had to talk my sister out of it, believe me. We served polenta with the veal, and having two starches seemed a bit much... though maybe she was right."

Carlisle shakes his head quickly. "Jesus, no, I was joking. Don't think that everything was less than excellent."

Edward's pleasure in his enjoyment is evident. "I'm happy to hear that. The next time we all get together, I'll be sure to serve your favorite."

"You mean _my_ favorite," Esme says, poking her brother with an elbow as she passes by. "I'll make coffee if you put out the cheese course, bro."

It is past ten when the coffee and port are served, but they linger at the table, chatting over cheeses and a luscious pear tart that Isabella serves. Edward takes Garrett's seat, and the two men are at last able to spend more time talking.

You don't just work at the food truck, do you?" Carlisle asks as Edward pours more wine.

"I'm the owner. _Forchette_ has been my baby for three years now. I parked my first truck in the financial district and sold spaghetti and tempura meatballs to the stockbrokers. The truck at the hospital is my second; I'm there to make sure everything goes as I want it to.

"I'm sure that makes me sound like a control freak, but _Forchette_ is important to me. I promised myself when I graduated from culinary school that I would make a success of myself before I turned thirty, or go cook for someone else. I made it with two years to spare," he says.

"Twenty-eight… quite an accomplishment for one so young," Carlisle murmurs and feels his face flush when Edward's mouth turns up on one side. "I'm sorry; that sounded condescending."

Edward waves him off. "It's okay; I didn't take it that way. I've been lucky and I have a great team, inside and outside of the kitchens. We work hard, and we're doing really well."

"Your parents must be proud."

Edward's eyes cut away, and he stares at his wine.

"Oh, I'm adopted. Mae's parents are happy with the way things are working out for me, though. They've always been really supportive."

His tone is light, but Carlisle can read the discomfort in his body language. He feels a strange urge to make the young man... happy, comforted, and content. Before he can consider his thoughts, Edward looks up again.

"Friends of mine are throwing a party tomorrow night. Why don't you come with me?" He holds up a hand at Carlisle's arched eyebrow. "Just friends hanging out. Emmett and Brady will be there, so it's not as if you'll be stuck only with me."

Carlisle laughs softly, struck by the self-deprecation that seems at odds with his business acumen.

"Okay. Give me the address and I'll meet you there."

OoOoO

Edward's friends are intimidating. Like Emmett, Brady, and Edward himself, they are young and vibrant. They're gorgeous, really. Carlisle looks at the groups of stylishly dressed young men and feels... old. He worries that he is making a fool of himself, that he does not belong, and he licks his lips nervously when Edward's warm fingers curl around his elbow.

"Let's get something to drink." He tilts his head at Carlisle's expression. "Something wrong?"

"No, I just... it's been a while since I went to a house party."

Edward's eyes scan the room and his teeth catch the corner of his lip. "This isn't really your scene, is it? Jake and Paul work in the theater and they like to have these parties whenever one of them starts a new show. They're break-a-leg celebrations, and not as wild as they might seem.

"Would you rather go out for some dinner? Or if you want to go home I can help you get a cab-"

"Edward, stop." Carlisle feels oddly touched by the young man's rambling. "This is fine. I don't really have a scene right now, to be honest. It just… it took my brain a second to adjust. I'd love a drink."

The young man watches him closely, keen eyes moving over his face as if looking for a lie. Then he nods toward the kitchen with a grin, catching Carlisle's arm with his hand once more.

Edward's friends welcome Carlisle with genuine warmth. He learns that Jacob and Paul have been partners since college, and that there are a few men in the group close to his age. He realizes that everyone in the crowd is coupled up, with the exception of Edward.

Watching the young man as he talks and laughs with his friends, Carlisle wonders why he is unattached. Surely someone with his appeal and success would be snapped up... unless remaining single is his intention. His stomach twists slightly as the thought takes hold. He wonders if, despite Edward's assurances, he has something in mind besides friendship.

"You're looking way too serious over here, doc. We need to do something to loosen you up."

His eyes snap up at Edward's teasing tone and his body floods with a hot rush of anger. The humor drains from Edward's face when he sees the man's expression, and Carlisle feels a jolt of shame. He escapes to the bathroom and locks the door, splashing cold water on his face. He studies his expression in the mirror, battling to calm his wild thoughts. They are unfair to Edward, who has done nothing beyond extending his friendship.

A tap at the door makes Carlisle's stomach sink. Slowly, he unlocks the door and steps back as Edward slips in.

The young man's face is pensive as he looks at Carlisle, and his grey eyes are somber.

"What was that about?"

"Why are you still single?"

Edward blinks in surprise before his expression grows thoughtful. "I haven't always been. Emmett and I were together through school, but it didn't work out. We figured out that we're better as friends. I've dated since then, though nothing's worked out. I guess I just haven't found the right man."

His shoulders rise and fall as he shrugs. "Are you going to tell me what happened out there, Carlisle?"

"I... I freaked out."

"Yeah, I got that part. Was it something I said?"

"It's not you, Edward. It's me."

His nose wrinkles. "Isn't it a little early in our friendship to be using that line?"

Carlisle can't help laughing and the tension breaks.

"I'm sorry for being such a head case, Edward. I'm... I've been starting my life over for a little while. I still get thrown off."

Edward nods and seems to consider Carlisle's words. His eyes glaze over in thought for a moment, and when they focus again, they are clear and determined.

"Tell me what happened."

OoOoO

They find a quiet corner and spend the evening talking. When the party ends, they go to a diner in Chinatown to eat Dutch pancakes and corned beef hash. For hours, Carlisle tells Edward about the life he had with Jasper.

They met when Carlisle was in med school. Jasper was five years younger and a first year undergraduate, but pursued the older man adamantly. They were still together as Jasper began graduate school and Carlisle was working through his residency in emergency medicine. Three years later, Jasper had joined a very successful advertising firm, and Carlisle was on the staff at the city's central hospital.

They seemed happy. Carlisle knew that he was. They celebrated his thirtieth birthday in the suburban house they had bought. They adopted a dog and two cats, and bought a condo on the beach to spend their summer vacations.

"I spent sixteen years with Jasper," Carlisle said, stirring his coffee. "I thought... he was it. That I had the life I wanted. Am I making sense?"

Edward's eyes are sympathetic when he nods. "What happened?"

"He left me for someone," Carlisle says simply. "A was a mutual friend of ours. It took a long time for me to catch on that something was wrong. They were… carrying on, shall we say, for at least six months before I caught them."

"What an asshole," Edward grumbles, making Carlisle laugh.

"Pretty much. I know now that I overlooked a lot. I dismissed things I shouldn't have, because I didn't want to believe them. I forced Jasper into couple's therapy, which was a disaster. Then we had to sell the houses. It was almost two years before things really ended.

"I used some of my share of the property sales to buy an apartment in the city last year. So... I'm turning forty this year, and I'm on my own for the first time in my adult life."

"Starting over."

Carlisle smiles at his careful tone. "Starting over. Seeing a therapist for my depression. Accepting the rare date. Mostly working or staying in. Becoming a hermit and a social misfit."

Edward rolls his eyes. "Please. You're not a proper social misfit until you've hung out with theater geeks and cooking nerds. Oh, which you've now done. You're fucked, dude."

The two men laugh and Carlisle realizes again, how far he has retreated from simple human interaction. The dinner at Esme's and this strange evening with Edward mark the first time in months he has socialized outside of work. It feels good to laugh and talk with the young man, and to enjoy his easygoing charm.

"Let's get you a cab," Edward says when they leave the diner, his eyes scanning the street.

"What about you?"

"Oh, no worries. I live five blocks from here; I can walk."

"Are you sure that's safe? It's almost one in the morning, after all."

"It's perfectly safe, Carlisle." He flags down a cab on the opposite side of the street. "There's always lots of people out, even at this hour."

They wait for the cab to swing around and pull up to the curb. Edward seems to consider something for a moment before he steps closer, taking Carlisle's hand in his. His cheeks flush and he licks his lips, and his voice is quiet when he speaks.

"I'd like to see you again. We can just be friends if that's what you'd prefer. But I like you. I had a good time, last night and tonight."

Carlisle opens his mouth to tell Edward that he is crazy. To ask why he is interested in a man more than ten years his senior, who spent the entire evening unloading about a failed relationship. Before he can speak, Carlisle sees the sincerity in Edward's lovely face, and nods humbly instead.

"I'd like that."

Edward's eyes shine as he leans to press his lips to the corner of the man's mouth. "Good."

Carlisle feels his hand on the small of his back as Edward helps him in to the cab and he waves when the young man's grin flashes in the window. For a long time, even as he lays in bed waiting for sleep, his skin tingles with the memory of Edward's lips.

OoOoO

After their awkward start, getting to know each other is almost effortless. Carlisle wonders at how easily things fall into place, and what it is about Edward that makes everything simpler.

Carlisle buys lunch from the _Forchette_ food truck when he can, and Edward slips treats in the bags, often decorating the packages with drawings and notes.

They exchange numbers and send texts back and forth, though Edward is more prolific. Carlisle's phone buzzes throughout the day with quirky trains of thought.

_Watermelon flavored gum makes everything better._

_Omg, don't ever let me on the train without my iPod again. _

_Is it weird to eat falafel for breakfast?_

_I liked that blue shirt you had on the other night. Rawr._

On Carlisle's nights off, they have easy, no fuss dates. They see movies and meet Emmett and Brady for drinks at a bar in their neighborhood. They eat out and talk for hours about whatever pops in their heads.

OoOoO

"What's the meaning behind your tattoos?" Carlisle watches Edward rub his thumb over the ink under his skin.

"Different things." He points toward an elegant tree in the center of the design. "The tree was first, in memory of my parents. They died when I was twelve and I went to live with Esme's family a year later. I've been building on the design since then. Things that mean something to me… important events in my life."

His expression is thoughtful as his fingers moved over the dark lines. He looks down at his skin and his long lashes hide the emotions in his grey eyes. Carlisle's heart squeezes for the loss he has suffered, as well as for the things he has accomplished.

"What about the other arm? Will you get inked there too?"

Edward's eyes are clear and he smiles when he looks up. "Eventually. I'm saving that arm for what happens next in my life. For when I have my own family… new memories and experiences."

OoOoO

Before they part ways on their evenings out, Edward kisses Carlisle. Their lips meet with the perfect amount of heat and restraint for just a moment before Edward pulls away. He insists that Carlisle set the pace, and says that he is willing to wait until the man is ready for whatever comes next.

Carlisle appreciates the young man's consideration. He also finds himself imagining things. He imagines feeling Edward's long arms wrapped around him. He imagines sliding his fingers through Edward's unruly brown hair. He imagines the rasp of Edward's stubble against his own cheek, and the way his lovely mouth would taste.

He isn't sure that he is ready for something beyond flirting. The twelve years separating them worry him, too. Still, he likes Edward, and he likes the way the young man makes him feel. He feels awake again, at last, after the long period of numbness that followed Jasper leaving.

OoOoO

A few weeks later, Edward gives the man a tentative push. They're waiting for the bill at the Chinatown diner, and after a minute of lip nibbling, he asks Carlisle to come to his apartment for a drink. The mix of pleasure and surprise when Carlisle agrees makes the man frown.

"Don't look so surprised."

"I'm not! Okay, I am," Edward chuckles. "I know you're working tomorrow, so I figured I had a fifty-fifty shot."

As they leave the diner, Edward threads his fingers through Carlisle's. They've held hands before, for a moment here and there and when they kiss goodnight. This, however, is the first time he has taken the man's hand simply to hold as they walk together. Carlisle knows it isn't a big deal. It just feels like one.

Edward lives in a renovated building in the heart of the harbor district. The white painted brick and steel décor of the loft are masculine and striking, even in the bathroom, where Carlisle pauses to a get hold of his nerves. Afterward, he finds Edward in the sitting area, pouring glasses of wine.

He lets out a low whistle as he walks toward a wall of enormous windows looking out onto the water.

"This is gorgeous, Edward."

He feels the young man's hands on his shoulders, pulling gently as he helps him out of his jacket.

"Thank you. I love it here."

"Is there another room... or do you sleep hanging upside down in the closet?"

Edward turns and points to a staircase behind them that leads to a second level over the kitchen. From where they stand, the bedroom is just visible, partially obscured by privacy panels.

"I bought this place when the housing bubble burst." Edward carries Carlisle's jacket to a nearby armchair. "Sometimes I think it might be nice to have a yard... and then I remember how much I hate mowing grass."

"Yard work is overrated." Carlisle's smile falters as he remembers the time Jasper proudly spent on the upkeep of their gardens and lawns.

Always observant, Edward crosses the room to stand before him. He raises one hand to Carlisle's cheek, his eyes moving calmly over the man's face. Carlisle's breath seems to stop as they watch each other.

"I poured some wine," Edward murmurs, pausing when Carlisle shakes his head.

"I don't need any wine."

He lifts his hand to cover Edward's fingers resting on his face. His heart beats wildly, and the blood rushes in his ears.

Edward licks his lips before leaning in, so slowly, to brush his lips against Carlisle's. This time he doesn't pull away. He lingers, and the sweet pressure of his mouth makes Carlisle feel warm.

His eyes close when the young man's hands frame his face. Strong fingers cup his jaw and long thumbs stroke his cheekbones. Carlisle grasps Edward's waist, gripping his shirt lightly, and the kiss deepens, their mouths moving together as they learn each other's tastes.

Carlisle's breath hitches when he feels Edward's tongue on his lips. He opens his mouth and a soft groan rumbles in his chest. They kiss slowly and thoroughly, the warmth in Carlisle burning hotter. His cock hardens and he pulls Edward closer, his hands splayed across the young man's lower back.

Edward utters a low moan when their hips meet. He pushes Carlisle gently against the window and grinds against him slowly, making him shudder at the overwhelming sensations.

He breaks away panting, and kisses the line of Edward's jaw. "Oh, God, you feel so good."

"You too, Carlisle," he murmurs, his lips moving against the man's neck between kisses. "I've wanted to kiss you like that for such a long time, you have no idea."

With sure hands and steps, he leads Carlisle to the sofa without their lips ever parting. When the man is seated, Edward climbs onto his lap. His knees press against the man's hips, and he winds his arms around his shoulders, pulling their chests together.

Carlisle's hands move hungrily, rubbing Edward's back, arms, and ribs. He can't remember when he last felt so good. The intensity of his body's responses frightens him, but it has been so long since he was touched, and made to feel desired and attractive. His nerves fade under the craving he feels for the young man in his arms, and all he knows is that he wants more.

Edward's hips roll against him, turning his bones liquid. He groans low in his throat and kisses the young man deeply, thrusting up to meet his hips. They shift on the sofa until Carlisle is on his back with Edward on top, the young man licking and sucking the skin of his neck.

Edward swears when their cocks connect through their clothes. Carlisle arches up with a gasp, needing to feel Edward hard and straining through his jeans. The young man's mouth is searing against his, and their hands roam, seeking out as much contact as they can find.

"God," he says desperately when Edward pulls away. The young man presses deep, wet kisses to Carlisle's throat and swirls his tongue around his Adam's apple, making his eyes roll.

The young man's lips press against Carlisle's ear, his breath hot and close when he speaks. "Tell me to stop if you don't want this."

"I do. I want this. Please just… oh, God, touch me."

"I am." Edward pulls back to look at him with burning eyes. "You're so beautiful, Carlisle. You have no idea, do you?"

He slides his hand between them, palming Carlisle's cock, and the man is sure his heart will punch through his chest. His body reacts, hips bucking up without warning as a low cry fills his throat.

"Fuck. I want you." Edward's voice is gruff. "I want you so badly. Can I take you upstairs?"

Carlisle is so aroused that he can hardly speak. He makes some affirmative noise and nods, and they scramble up, Edward holding out a hand to help him up.

The men climb the stairs quickly and without speaking. Once behind the privacy panels, Edward turns, reaching for Carlisle with a hungry noise. Their mouths connect in a wet crash of teeth and tongues and they stagger toward the bed, hands pulling urgently at each other's clothes.

Carlisle's breath catches when his hands meet the skin on Edward's shoulders. He pulls away to stare at the tattoos in the sleeve, realizing only then that the design extends onto his chest, covering most of his pectoral with graceful black swirls.

Edward helps the man to sit, bending with him to keep their mouths close. Carlisle's hands move over the skin on Edward's ribs, guiding the young man over him as he lays back. Edward's tongue traces a hot, wet line along his throat, one hand dropping to stroke Carlisle through his boxers.

Carlisle moans when those long fingers touch him.

Edward uses his mouth well, kissing and licking, sometimes gently biting the man's skin, making him hiss with pleasure. He laps at Carlisle's nipples and nibbles his ribs, dipping his pink tongue into his navel.

Carlisle is trembling, so overloaded with sensation he feels dizzy. Little moans escape him with each breath, and he claws at the young man above him, desperate to see and feel him.

Edward's face is flushed and his mouth hangs open slightly as looks at Carlisle. He cups the man's balls in his hand before reaching further back, massaging the area with slow, maddening circles.

"What do you want?" he asks breathlessly, his fingers carefully moving to tease the cleft of Carlisle's ass.

"Oh, _Jesus_," Carlisle moans out. He stares into the grey eyes that anchor him to the bed, needing to be filled, to feel that spiral of razor edged pleasure. "Please, _please_ don't stop. Don't stop, Edward."

"I won't," he murmurs, kissing Carlisle again, his tongue deep in the man's mouth as they hold each other tightly.

They're breathing hard when Edward pulls away, getting to his knees to reach for the nightstand. Carlisle hears the drawer scrape and grins when the young man drops a bottle of lube by his knees.

Edward hooks his thumbs under Carlisle's waistband, slowly dragging the boxers down over his cock, and pausing to kiss the soft skin of the man's groin, making him whine.

He sits back again, murmuring, "Up," and pressing his fingers into Carlisle's hips. The man obeys, allowing Edward to draw the boxers over his ass and down his legs. Edward's movements are deliberate, and he pauses often to press his lips against Carlisle's body.

Carlisle is trembling and so, so hard when Edward slides his own boxers off. He hears the click of the lube bottle, and watches Edward slick his hands. He jumps slightly when cool fingers trail up his ass, and lets his knees fall open with a sigh.

"Let me make you feel good," Edward whispers. Their gazes lock and burn, and he pushes a finger slowly inside.

Carlisle opens his mouth, and any words he might have had are lost. He grunts instead, pushing his head back into the pillow, his eyes never leaving Edward's. A sweat breaks out over his skin and a rush of pleasure coils down his spine and into his belly.

"_Fuck_," Carlisle breathes when a second finger slides inside, his mouth falling open as he battles for control. When Edward wraps the wet fingers of his other hand around Carlisle's cock, he is lost.

"Feels good, doesn't it," Edward murmurs, his voice rough.

Carlisle can see the desire in Edward's eyes and feel him hot and hard against his thigh. Before he can think to reach for him, Edward bends and takes him in his mouth. Every thought he has flies out of his head. When the young man's fingers curl inside him, Carlisle's pleasure detonates.

He swears weakly, his eyes clenching closed, and he writhes under Edward, his fingers winding tightly in the young man's hair. His skin feels tight and hot, like a berry about to burst.

Edward takes him deep, swallowing around him with a muffled groan, and Carlisle thrusts up into the heat of his mouth each time it rises and falls over him.

"Oh, God. I – I need to… _fuck_, Edward."

Edward's mouth and hands unravel Carlisle's control and he feels his orgasm begin to spiral. His eyes snap open and he looks at the beautiful young man moaning around his cock before his body stiffens.

He lets go, coming so hard he can hardly breathe. He hears his own voice, and feels the heat of Edward's mouth and his fingers, all as if from far away. He floats down slowly, finding the young man on top of him. Edward's weight is solid and warm between Carlisle's legs, and his arms hold the man tightly.

"Mmm," he hums against Carlisle's throat, pressing kisses there while the man comes back to himself.

Carlisle feels it then, Edward's cock like steel against his thigh. He turns to kiss him, and groans at the taste of his come on the young man's tongue. Edward lets out a shaky breath when Carlisle reaches for him, shuddering when he runs a thumb over the head. He's mumbling nonsense when the man pulls back, and Carlisle knows from his rolling eyes and panting breaths that he is too aroused to last very long.

"Come on me, Edward," he urges, angling their bodies together and pumping faster.

The young man's body curls inward when he comes, and he calls out hoarsely as his cock pulses hot and wet on Carlisle's skin.

OoOoO

"It's late."

They are lying, cleaned and drowsy, in Edward's bed, and Carlisle's head is on the young man's chest. Their arms are warm around each other and their legs are tangled beneath the sheets. Carlisle runs his fingers over the ink on Edward's chest, listening to the young man's heart thud under his ear.

"I should go."

"Stay." Edward's lips move against Carlisle's hair and his arms tighten a little more. "I'll make sure you get up in the morning. I'm working tomorrow; I have to get up early, too."

"You don't mind?"

Carlisle tilts his head back to see the young man's face. Edward's lips turn up on one side and he watches the man with sleepy eyes.

"You being here is the last thing I'd mind, Carlisle. Stay."

The young man's kisses are deep and sweet, and a warm feeling unfurls in Carlisle's chest.

OoOoO

Esme smiles when she pulls the cover from the takeout container in front of her.

"What's that face for?" Carlisle asks, cutting his chicken parmigiana with a fork.

She shrugs and eats a bite before answering. "You look good, Carlisle. Better."

"Better than what?"

"Than before. After…." She pauses and licks her lips. "I know we weren't close when you were with Jasper. When things ended with him, you retreated from everything."

He says nothing, knowing Esme is right. There is nothing to explain.

"You've been coming back, these last few weeks. You seem happy. It's nice."

"It feels nice," Carlisle murmurs.

OoOoO

Edward cooks beautifully that spring, learning Carlisle's favorite dishes, and introducing him to some of his own. They sometimes work together on Edward's sofa while watching movies, discussing Carlisle's paperwork or _Forchette's_ menus. They meet Edward's friends at the diner, and have game nights at Jake and Paul's. And they spend their nights at Edward's loft, learning ways to pleasure each other.

Occasionally, Edward suggests cooking at Carlisle's apartment or that he'd like to meet his friends. Carlisle finds reasons to refuse or deflect, aware that he is shutting the young man out at a certain level. He sometimes catches a mixture of hurt and confusion on Edward's face, but he cannot bring himself to let him in that far.

OoOoO

Carlisle often wakes when it is still dark to find Edward spooned against him. The young man's arm is curled around his waist and their legs are pressed together. His breaths are warm against the back of Carlisle's neck, and he mumbles quietly in his sleep.

Carefully, Carlisle turns in his arms. He watches the young man's eyelids tremble and hears his breaths change as he dreams. His pink lips curve up in a smile before they purse together in a pout, and slowly, slowly Carlisle leans to kiss them, sighing at the softness he finds there.

Edward wakes gradually, inhaling a long breath through his nose while his fingers grasp Carlisle's waist. His groans are quiet when the man's tongue slides between his lips.

Edward's mouth and fingers send fire racing under Carlisle's skin. He gasps when the young man slides his cock inside him and pulls his lean frame close, trying to erase the space between them.

He shakes and moans in Edward's arms, painting their bodies with come. Only then does Edward let himself go, burying his face in Carlisle's skin when he unravels.

OoOoO

Jake and Paul hold their annual Pride Party on the rooftop of a boutique hotel near Carlisle's neighborhood. _Forchette_ caters the food, which, unsurprisingly, meets with raves. Though he is technically off-duty, Edward is drawn to the kitchen. Carlisle waves off his apologies and sees the pride in the young man's face as they watch the servers return again and again with empty trays.

"You look surprised that the food is a success," he teases.

"I'm not." Edward's ears turn pink and he sips his wine. "I know how well my staff can cook and that my recipes are strong. This party means a lot to Jake and Paul, though, and I wanted it to go well. For people to enjoy the food and…." He trails off and looks away.

Carlisle runs the backs of his fingers over the young man's cheek and waits until their eyes meet. "What is it?"

"I wanted to impress you, too," he confesses, his cheeks reddening. "You've never been to an event I catered. I didn't want anything to go wrong."

Carlisle's chest swells at his words. Edward threads their fingers together and swings their joined hands gently.

"That probably makes me sound silly."

"Not at all."

Carlisle wonders how to tell Edward that he is impressed every day with his skills, intelligence, and integrity. That he is kind, fearless, and lovely. That he makes Carlisle feel alive.

One of the kitchen staff waves at Edward before Carlisle can speak.

"Sorry." Edward kisses him sweetly before turning away. "I'll be right back."

Carlisle walks to the edge of the roof, gazing at the city lights spread out around him while he sips his wine. He is so taken with the view that he misses the sound of approaching footsteps and is unprepared for the familiar voice that speaks.

"What are you doing over here all by your lonesome?"

For a moment, he is frozen. Inhaling deeply, he forces himself to turn and meet Jasper's blue eyes.

"Hello, Jasper. Thought I'd take a look at the city. My date had to step away for a minute." Carlisle feels pleased that his voice is steady.

"Oh? Where's he gone off to?"

"Kitchen emergency from what I gather. He should be back in a moment."

"I see." Jasper smiles, his eyes curious. "I suppose I knew you wouldn't stay unattached forever, Car."

"Yes." Carlisle takes a long sip from his glass and tries not to notice Jasper's dimples or the way the breeze stirs his curls. "How's Peter?"

"Peter's fine."

Even after two years, his old friend's voice makes Carlisle's jaw clench. He bites the inside of his cheek as the tall blond joins them.

"Glad to hear it."

Peter's eyes move up and down Carlisle's body with approval. "You look good, Car. Even better, I daresay, than you did when you were with Jasper. Wouldn't you agree, sweetheart?"

"There's no surprise in that," Jasper murmurs with a frown. "Car always looks good."

"I'm intrigued more than surprised. I assume that there is a 'who' that has put the spark back in your pretty blue eyes, Car? Or are you still out there playing the field?"

That cold steel edge is what Carlisle has always disliked most about Peter. No one is spared its sting, not even Jasper himself, and it infuriates Carlisle as much tonight as it has in the past.

"I was just telling Jasper; I'm seeing someone. He's a friend of Jake and Paul's."

"I know Paul through mutual friends," Jasper offers, stepping into the role of peacekeeper as he often does when Peter and Carlisle are forced to share space. "Maybe I know your friend, too."

Carlisle's stomach sinks at the idea of Edward having ever been around either Peter or Jasper, though he knows the likelihood is high. The city's gay community isn't particularly small, but it is tight knit. It is easy to trace connections from friend to friend and group to group.

A movement in the crowd catches Carlisle's eye and he looks up to see Edward waving from the bar. He nods when the young man holds up a finger to indicate he will be another minute longer.

"That's him," Carlisle murmurs, tapping his wristwatch with his finger, and smiling again when Edward winks.

Peter's brows are high on his forehead when Carlisle turns back, while Jasper's face is curiously blank.

"You're seeing Edward Masen? As in _Forchette_ Edward Masen?"

"You know him then?"

"Do I- yes, I _know_ him," Peter scoffs. "He's one of the better known chefs in the city. He was on a Travel Channel show, Car."

The man frowns and licks his lips. "I suppose that's true."

Peter lets out a harsh laugh. His smile stretches wide and mean, and his eyes narrow shrewdly.

"Fucking hell, Car. You really went for it this time, didn't you? Successful, beautiful, and so, so young. Honestly, I would have thought your experience with Jasper was lesson enough."

Carlisle's voice is hard. "And what lesson would that be?"

"That you should stick to what you know. You need the familiar: boring doctors with boring lives. There's no shame in it. That world is safe for someone like you. It's what you need."

"Enough, Pete," Jasper says quietly. His face is set in a deep frown that softens when he glances back to Carlisle.

"It was good to see you, Car. I'm glad things are working out for you."

Carlisle listens numbly as they say their goodbyes, their words bouncing off the bubble of fear that has formed itself around him. He sips his wine, and looks at the view, trying very hard to remember how to breathe.

He knows that Peter is right about Edward. They don't make sense. However genuine the young man's feelings appear to be, they can only be infatuation. One day, they will fade and he'll be gone, just as Jasper had gone before him. It is this realization that pushes him toward the exit.

OoOoO

Carlisle makes it a block before he hears footsteps pounding on the pavement behind him.

"Carlisle, stop!"

As badly as Carlisle wants to keep walking, he forces himself to stop and turns around. His lips press together when he sees the upset and confusion in Edward's expression.

"Where are you going?" the young man asks, panting lightly from running.

"I have to go home, Edward. I- its best if I go home now. Goodnight."

"Wait! I'll walk with you. Just tell me what happened up there."

Carlisle shakes his head slowly, watching as Edward's face falls. "That's not a good idea."

Edward watches him for a long moment, realization dawning slowly in his eyes.

"No. Don't do this, Carlisle." His voice is strained. "I don't know what happened upstairs; if someone said something to you, or…. I'm asking you to please, please, not do this."

"I have to, Edward. I've tried to tell myself that this could work. I know now it can't."

"Don't say that."

"We're not a good match, Edward. We don't… we don't make sense."

"_Everything I feel about you makes sense_," the young man exclaims.

Carlisle's throat tightens at the young man's mounting distress. "You won't feel like this forever."

"I disagree."

"You're so young, Edward. You have so much life ahead of you."

The young man throws his hands wide. "A life I would be happy to share with you for as long as you'd let me! But you won't let me in. And… I don't understand why, Carlisle. Why won't you let me?"

"You're not going to want me in a few years-"

"You have no idea what I want."

"Probably not." Carlisle breathes deeply, badly wanting to hold Edward's shaking hands. "And I am sorry about that. But I know what I want. I know what I need. I need to end this Edward, for both of our sakes. I'm sure you think me cruel, and I hope you can understand that I'm doing this for both of us."

"Carlisle-"

"I don't want this, Edward. Us. I don't want it."

Edward's throat works in a convulsive swallow. Carlisle braces himself for more arguing, and is surprised when the young man turns away, his shoulders tight with tension. He is quiet for a moment before raising a hand to his unruly hair. The man's heart aches when Edward rubs roughly at his face. His heart breaks when the young man turns around. His big eyes are red and shining with the tears he tried to hide.

"I want to be what you need," Edward says quietly. "To make you happy. To make you feel the way I do when I'm with you. I'm sorry that I couldn't. Maybe… well, who knows."

His smile is sad when he steps forward to grasp the man's fingers with his own. "I hope you find him, Carlisle. You deserve to be happy."

He jams his hands in his pockets as he walks away, his long legs moving with grace and speed. Carlisle watches as he slips out of sight into the crowds, and then for a long time afterward. He feels cold and empty, and his fingers ache where Edward held them.

OoOoO

Later the next week, Esme sits down at Carlisle's table in the doctors' lounge. She says nothing as she unpacks the carrier bag of food, and slides a takeout container across the table toward him.

"I'm not very hungry, Esme."

"Indulge me." Her voice is quiet and she watches him for a moment before they pull the lids off the dishes.

The familiar smells of cheese and pepper fill the air. The melancholy Carlisle has felt since watching Edward walk away threatens to overwhelm him. It isn't until Esme nudges his hand that he remembers he is not alone.

"Did he say anything…?"

"When I bought lunch, you mean?" She frowns. "No. He's not there. He's cooking over in the financial district again."

Carlisle's appetite disappears completely. "Why would he do that?"

"He didn't want to make you uncomfortable. And… he said it would be easier for him, too."

Carlisle buries his face in his hands. "Shit. I really fucked this up."

Esme lays her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I didn't mean to hurt him."

"I know. He's… he'll be okay."

"I didn't know how to let him go without it being so… so fucking _painful_."

He hears the hesitation in her voice when she speaks. "I know you worry about Edward being younger than you."

"He's _much_ younger, Esme."

"Yes, well, whatever the case, I understand your concern. Especially after Jasper."

She tugs at Carlisle's wrist until he drops his hands. Her eyes are earnest and sympathetic, and she wraps her fingers around his reassuringly.

"Edward is… different. He's not careless with his emotions or his heart. When he wants something, he is fully present. All in, you could say. He would never hurt you the way Jasper did, Carlise. He doesn't have it in him to do that to someone he cares about."

Carlisle's throat tightens and his eyes sting. "You don't know how badly I wish I could believe that."

"Trust him."

"That's just it. I don't trust _myself_. Not my instincts or my head, and especially not my heart."

Her mouth lifts on one side, reminding the man so strongly of Edward that he bites the inside of his cheek.

"Edward can teach you how. He has a genius for affection. You just have to let him in."

OoOoO

The next day, Carlisle switches his schedule for the evening shift and goes across town to the financial district at lunchtime. The green _Forchette _truck is parked at the cross streets Esme described, and the line snakes along the pavement for over a block.

Edward is in the order window, talking to customers, and handling bags and orders. He looks lovely, as always, and also careworn. He seems subdued, and his easy laugh is absent.

Carlisle waits until he steps out for his break before forcing himself to get closer. Edward freezes when he sees the man, his face blank with surprise. Still, he nods when Carlisle points toward an empty bench nearby.

"Hey, doc." His voice is soft when Carlisle sits beside him. "Did you get lost on your way to lunch?"

"A little." Carlisle's heart is thundering again, this time with nerves and what he recognizes as relief. He feels right again, for the first time in days. "I had to see you, and it's not easy now that you're all the way over here."

Edward's brow furrows. "What about?"

"About forgetting everything I said to you the other night. About how wrong I was, and how unfair I've been to you."

A slow flush works its way over Edward's cheeks. He crosses his arms his fingers move over the designs of the tattooed sleeve on his skin.

"I'd like to try again, Edward. If you can forgive me."

"I'd like that," the young man says, his eyes glowing. "I'd like that very much."

Carlisle smiles and clasps his hands together to keep from pulling Edward into his arms.

"I have to work tonight. But I wondered if I could make you dinner tomorrow."

"_You're _cooking?"

"I'd like to. I'd like to make you dinner at my apartment… if you trust me not to burn pancakes, that is."

Edward's face lights up with his laugh. "And why will you be making pancakes?"

"They're the only thing I know how to cook." Carlisle chuckles as the young man laughs harder. "I'm afraid I'll need help with the bacon, however."

"Sounds perfect."

Edward smiles before leaning in, so slowly, to brush his lips against Carlisle's, and sighs when the man takes him in his arms.

* * *

Siiiiigh... you like? :)

Thank you for reading. I enjoyed writing this so much. I made a banner for this story and will link it on my profile.

If you haven't read the other SBS 4.0 entries, do yourself a favor and go read - they were all really quite wonderful.

And thanks to my fellow CW/RFach lovers on Twitter and Facebook. You guys make me laugh and smile, and post drool-worthy pics that inspire. Love you guise! **  
**

**_Notes:_**

The title of this story was inspired by both Helen Hunt Jackson's essay, _A Genius For Affection_, and Marilyn Sides's novel, _A Genius of Affection._

_Cacio e pepe _is a pasta dish served with a pan sauce comprised of butter (or evoo), fresh cracked pepper, and cheese. One of my readers pointed out that pecorino stagionato is used, and added peppercorns and salt to the mix. Thank you, ArekWithlock :)

Pignoli, or pinoli, are also known as pine nuts.


	2. Chapter 2

Turns out these boys have some more to say. Thank you for reading.

Thank you to my wonderful beta, Discordia81, and prereader, AbstractSong101, for wrangling my words and crazy.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight.

**Warnings: **There will be slash.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Carlisle's buzzer rings just before seven the next evening. He's quick to walk to the door, but hesitates for a moment before pressing the intercom button.

"Hello?"

"Hey, doc." The sound of Edward's tinny voice through the speaker makes him smile.

"I'm on the third floor," he says, hitting the button to unlock the front door.

As much as he looks forward to this dinner, Carlisle's nerves are unsettled. Inviting Edward into his home yesterday felt right. His heart warms as he remembers the young man's smile and the way his eyes shone as they talked beside the food truck. It has been a long time, however, since Carlisle has let someone this far into his life; for all his conviction, he feels off balance. The walls he built around himself after Jasper left are still very much in place. It will take time to rid himself of his ghosts. Whether Edward is willing to stick around long enough for that to happen, he cannot tell.

Carlisle answers when Edward knocks, opening the door to find him holding a bottle of wine and a white paper bag. He's dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt instead of his _Forchette_ uniform, and wearing a ball cap despite the summer heat. Edward's grin is warm, but his grey eyes seem weary, and Carlisle longs to smooth away the line between his brows.

"Come in," he says, rubbing the young man's arm gently as he steps over the threshold. They embrace and Edward presses a soft kiss to his cheek, and as he does, something loosens inside Carlisle's chest.

"I brought some blackberries and crème fraiche from the market near my house." Edward pulls away, licking his lips nervously as he hands the bag and bottle to the other man. "Vouvray goes well with crepes… I thought that maybe it would be okay with pancakes, too. Or we could make coffee instead-"

"Edward, stop." Carlisle grins and eyes the bottle's label as he closes the door. "I've never had wine and pancakes before. You realize they're just begging to be burned now."

"Hey, I'm a professional," Edward teases, following Carlisle into the apartment. "Consider me back up for all your kitchen needs."

"Let me open this and then I'll show you around the place. Can I get you a glass now?"

"Sure, thanks."

Carlisle busies himself opening the bottle and finding glasses while they chat about the workday. When he turns around, his eyes widen in surprise. The young man stands quietly before him, holding his ball cap, and Carlisle holds quite still, a wine glass in each hand, looking him over. Edward's uncovered head is almost bare, his brown hair shaved down to a quarter-inch of soft-looking fuzz.

"Holy shit." Carlisle's voice is hushed.

Without his unruly mop of hair, Edward's cheekbones and strong jaw line are even more sharply defined, and his eyes appear very large. He runs a hand over his head as the silence lengthens, and Carlisle realizes that the scruff on his chin and cheeks isn't much shorter than what is left on his head.

"You cut your hair," Carlisle says stupidly.

Edward's mouth lifts up on one side as he reaches to run his fingers over the tattooed swirls on his skin. He looks very young and unsure, somehow, and achingly lovely.

"I cut it last week. You didn't notice yesterday because I had the bandana on."

"What… what prompted this?"

"Emmett and I got pretty drunk and shaved each other's heads."

Carlisle blinks. "Why?"

Edward arches an eyebrow. "Doesn't the 'pretty drunk' part go a ways toward explaining why?"

"Well, not exactly…" Carlisle shakes his head, stumbling over his words. "Why shave your heads?"

"I was talking about getting another tattoo, apparently -"

"Apparently? Don't you know?"

Edward's ears redden as he steps forward to take one of the glasses from Carlisle.

"I don't know, actually. We were drinking tequila and that evening... goes in and out a bit. Emmett wasn't about to let me near a tattoo studio, so he somehow talked me into cutting off my hair."

Carlisle swallows in an effort to keep his voice neutral. "And why did Emmett shave his head?"

"I dared him to." Edward shrugs, and sips from his glass. "That I remember. I didn't think he would take me up on it, but when he was finished with mine, he handed me the clippers and told me to go ahead.

"Brady was pretty pissed at us both. He's the one that cleaned up all the hair and then had to go back to fix the spots we missed the next morning." Edward rubs at the fuzz again with his free hand, smiling faintly. "He didn't have a whole lot of sympathy for our state of epic hangover."

"I can imagine."

"He got over it. Especially because Em looks pretty good, I think. The short hair works for him."

Carlisle takes another step closer, reaching carefully for Edward's hairline, smiling as he runs his fingertips over the fine bristles.

"Oh! So soft." His smile widens when Edward grimaces. "It's sort of cute."

The young man snorts. "I look like a baby bird."

"No, you don't," Carlisle insists gently, moving a hand to cup his cheek. "You look beautiful."

His smile fades when Edward meets his gaze with uncertain grey eyes. The young man hesitates for a moment before lifting a hand to cover Carlisle's as it rests on his face.

Carlisle leans in, so slowly, to brush his lips against Edward's. His heart thuds almost painfully when he feels the warmth of the other man's hand on the small of his back. His eyelids flutter and close, desire rippling through him as the kiss deepens.

Edward steps closer, humming softly when Carlisle's tongue slips into his mouth. Their breaths come faster as their lips move together, reconnecting them through touch and taste. When Edward breaks the kiss, he leans to press his forehead against Carlisle's, his hand fisting the other man's shirt.

"I missed you," he murmurs, his sweet breath ghosting over Carlisle's lips.

"I missed you back." Carlisle moves to pull Edward into his arms, remembering the glass in his hand when a little wine sloshes over his knuckles and splashes onto the floor.

His eyes pop open and Edward's gentle laugh fills the air.

"Shit."

"We should make dinner before we wreck your kitchen," the young man says lightly, pressing a kiss to Carlisle's cheek. "I don't have a change of clothes, either, so keep your wine in your glass, doc."

OoOoO

Despite his doubts, Carlisle turns out several stacks of perfect pancakes. Edward cooks the bacon as he had promised, sneaking bites and the occasional blackberry as he works, and humming along to Carlisle's Beatles playlist.

Carlisle's eyes widen as Edward deftly layers pancakes with slices of meat, buttering each cake and drizzling the stacks with just the right amount of syrup.

"Goddamn it, Edward. I can feel my arteries hardening just looking at these... things."

The young man smiles proudly at his handiwork. "Is that your way of saying that you're not eating?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Carlisle replies as he takes the plates to the table. "You'd have to sedate me to keep from eating this bit of evil genius."

"Oh, I see how it is. You'll eat my bacon but won't even show me around your apartment."

Carlisle grimaces in apology as they sit down. "I blame you. You scrambled my brain with that haircut. And the kissing."

"Hey, _you _kissed me, doc."

"You're right, I did."

"Feel free to do it again."

Carlisle leans to press his mouth to the other man's, savoring the tastes of salt and wine and berries on his lips.

"I'll show you around as soon as we finish eating," he says after a long moment. Without thinking, he reaches to push the hair back from Edward's forehead, pulling back in surprise when his fingers meet fuzz.

"Fuck," Edward mutters. His cheeks redden as he turns back to his food. "I could kill Emmett for digging out those clippers."

A tense silence falls over the table as they eat. Carlisle frowns, watching the unhappy expression and downcast eyes of the man at his side.

"Edward, did you get drunk and shave your head because of what happened at Jake and Paul's party?"

Edward's eyes are guarded when he looks up.

"No. I got drunk because you broke up with me; the head shaving was what happened after the booze was gone.

"I don't _know_ what happened at the party, Carlisle. Only that when I came back from the kitchen, you were gone, physically and otherwise. You just... checked out."

Carlisle's chest aches at his carefully controlled expression. "I owe you an apology. I'm so sorry about the way I acted that night."

He holds up his hand with a small smile when Edward opens his mouth to speak.

"Let me finish. I know you didn't ask, but you deserve to know what happened, and I think it'll be good for me to get it out.

"Jasper was at the party." He nods at Edward's frown. "He was there with his boyfriend – my former friend. We spoke, they recognized you when I told them who you are... and words were exchanged."

A warm hand covers Carlisle's at once. That comforting, familiar weight and the empathy in Edward's eyes make his throat tighten.

"Jesus, Carlisle. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was rattled, obviously. I was disappointed, too."

"Disappointed how?"

"With Jasper for just taking Peter's shit. And more so with myself. It's been years since Jasper left, Edward, and all it took was a few words to make me freak out. Again. I shouldn't have let them affect me that way. Shouldn't have let _Peter_ affect me that way. And I should never have walked out the way I did, or said those things to you."

"Why did you?" Edward asks quietly, his brows drawing together.

"I was scared. I a_m_ scared," Carlisle admits.

"Of what?"

Carlisle rubs his free hand roughly over his face with a sigh.

"You're a lot younger than I am, and we're at very different places in our lives. My work schedule can make it hard to find time for parties or nightclubs. Sometimes, I'm just too tired to go out. I enjoy the things you and I have been doing together, but I can't help wondering if they are enough for you."

Edward is silent for a moment, his touch reassuring against Carlisle's fingers.

"Carlisle, if I wanted to do something different with you or go out to a club, I'd tell you."

The man squeezes Edward's fingers in return and gives him an apologetic smile. "I know. Jasper and I used to argue about my schedule interfering with our social lives. It has become habit to _not_ let that happen again."

After a long pause, the young man gives Carlisle a small smile and nods at their plates, encouraging him to continue eating before pulling his hand away.

Carlisle digs into the stack again, letting the sweet and salty flavors roll over his tongue as Edward tells him about some changes he is making to the _Forchette_ menu. This is the first time Carlisle has had an appetite since the Pride party and the food and wine are good. Still, his attention lingers on the expression and movements of the man beside him. The line between Edward's brows is back, and he nibbles the corner of his lips in between bites of food. Carlisle's stomach sinks as he realizes Edward is keeping something from him.

They're nearly finished eating when he reaches out to brush his hand against the side of Edward's neck, his heart throbbing when the young man ducks his head to kiss his knuckles tenderly.

"What's wrong?" He frowns when Edward's eyes fall closed.

Edward draws a long breath in before opening his eyes and then, instead of answering, moves to gather the plates.

"Let me get the fruit -"

"Wait." Carlisle moves quickly, placing his hands on the other man's wrists to stop him from moving. "Edward. What aren't you saying to me?"

The young man's eyes are somber when he raises his eyes.

"Don't you trust me at all?"

"Yes, I do." Carlisle sighs at Edward's doubtful expression. "I know I've said this before, but I am the problem, not you. I misjudged Jasper and Peter so badly. Knowing that makes it hard to judge for myself what is best and what will work in my own life."

"Forgive me, Carlisle, but it is me, at least in part." Edward's eyes are almost angry, though his voice is measured. "I know we haven't been seeing each other for very long, but I'm part of this, too. You can't take all of the blame onto yourself."

"I won't let you take any of it, Edward. You've been… perfect, actually." Carlisle shakes his head firmly when the other man shifts uncomfortably. "For me, I mean, and _to_ me.

"I'm... damaged. I know this and I'm trying to fix it." He swallows, rubbing Edward's wrists with his fingers as he struggles to find his words. "But for the first time since Jasper left, I feel like myself again. I feel good, and that's because of you."

Edward flips his hands to catch hold of Carlisle's with a firm, reassuring grip. His touch quiets Carlisle's jumbled thoughts, and he draws a long breath and blows it out under Edward's steady gaze.

The young man leans forward to meet Carlisle's lips, the kiss sweet and warm and perfect.

"I'm not Jasper," he says, his lips ghosting against the other man's. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," Carlisle says, at once. He believes Edward's earnest words and eyes. What's more, he wants badly to erase the hurt on his lovely face. "I don't want to be anywhere else, either, Edward."

"Well, good." Edward leans to press his face against Carlisle's throat. "I'd like to get used to seeing you around again, if that's okay?"

OoOoO

After dinner, Carlisle makes good on his promise to show Edward around the apartment. Seeing the bland walls and furniture with new eyes, he realizes that the six rooms are sorely lacking in personal touches; it's a dwelling, rather than a home. Carlisle's pleasure is genuine, however, when he opens the door of the small balcony, and the men step out into the warm summer night.

"Nice place." Edward curls an arm around his waist with a smile. "Very neat and tidy, no fuss. It suits you."

"You just called me boring, didn't you?" He chuckles when Edward rolls his eyes. "It's a nice place. I like the neighborhood and it's close to the hospital. Being able to come out here is definitely my favorite thing about it."

They sit under the stars, talking and holding hands. Carlisle finds himself telling Edward that his life wasn't always so spartan; there was a time when he enjoyed collecting things. After Jasper left, however, Carlisle felt overwhelmed by the prospect of dealing with material possessions amassed over sixteen years. A strange compulsion to start from scratch had seized him, pushing him to unload the things he identified with his former life. He sold and donated as much as he could, moving only a few items in a storage unit west of the city before moving into this apartment.

"My sister and a couple of friends helped me, taking me shopping and helping me set this place up to be livable. I didn't have much energy for anything complicated, especially in the beginning. I suppose I wanted everything to be very simple and easy, and just different from what I had become accustomed to. That was my biggest motivation for moving into the city again."

Edward eyes him curiously. "And now? Do you miss living in the suburbs?"

"No. I've always liked the city and living here makes commuting to work easy. We moved to the 'burbs because Jasper wanted a dog and a yard… and the big house. He liked being able to show something for our hard work. Once we were out there, though, he realized our friends weren't going to follow us. That's when he started complaining about living too far from all of the interesting places to go out.

"We took trips in for the weekend and Jasper would... stay with friends here now and then when I was working night shifts. That way he could still go out and have a good time when I wasn't around."

Carlisle's smile is tight, though he no longer feels the same degree of bitterness he once did.

"We tried to make it work. Jasper still seemed... I don't know, discontent. Restless. I didn't realize things were that bad, though… bad enough that he would look for someone else. Sure, I knew things weren't perfect, but it caught me by surprise when everything blew up."

Edward squeezes Carlisle's hand and licks his lips before speaking. "I'm sorry that he hurt you."

The kindness in Edward's eyes warms Carlisle's entire body. He raises his hands to frame the other man's face, and draws him close.

"Thank you," he breathes before leaning toward Edward for a kiss.

Their mouths move slowly at first, and Carlisle sighs when their tongues meet. He moves forward in his chair when Edward's hands curl around his waist, and slips one knee between the young man's. His hands move over Edward's neck, fingers dipping beneath his shirt collar to touch his skin.

Carlisle moves without thought, easing out of his seat and pushing Edward back to settle in his lap. Fire races through him when Edward utters a low moan. They wind their arms around each other tightly, straining to get close, as if each could crawl inside the other. Carlisle is so, so hard already, and he can feel Edward's body responding beneath him. He shudders when the other man rocks against him, and pulls away to catch his breath.

"Come back inside with me, Edward."

"Oh, fuck," the young man groans. He presses his forehead into Carlisle's shoulder with a ragged exhalation. "I can't. I should really get going."

Carlisle frowns in confusion. "Why?"

"Emmett's picking up at my place early tomorrow morning to drive up to Portland. We're meeting with a guy who's interested in joining the team."

"But... why isn't the Portland guy coming to you?"

Edward raises his head to look at Carlisle, drawing circles over his back with his warm hands.

"This guy wants to join the team _from_ Portland. He owns a food truck already and thinks he'd do well there selling my food. He's pretty sure we'd make a good team."

Carlisle blinks in surprise. "You mean you'd expand _Forchette_ into Portland? That's fantastic, Edward."

The young man grins and raises a hand to smooth Carlisle's hair. "Nothing's been decided yet. Em and I are meeting the truck owner tomorrow to hear his pitch and take a look around Portland, but that's as far as we've gone right now. It's interesting, and sounds good on paper… I'm just not sure I want to go in that direction.

"I wish I could cancel, but the meeting was set up earlier this week-"

"Stop," Carlisle scolds before kissing Edward gently. "Don't apologize. Let me call for a cab. Of course I want you here, but I know how important _Forchette_ is to you."

He moves to stand but falls back with a chuckle when Edward's arms lock around him. The young man buries his face in Carlisle's chest, humming when he nuzzles the short hairs on the crown of his head with his lips.

"This is important to me, too, Carlisle. Right here, right now."

OoOoO

Carlisle lies in bed with kiss swollen lips, not thinking of the empty space beside him. He had pushed Edward against the wall as they waited for the cab, and the memory of his gasp as they ground against each other makes Carlisle's stomach flutter and his dick stiffen.

His groan is strained when he wraps his fingers around himself. He imagines Edward above him, settling between his legs while their cocks slide together. He thinks of the young man pushing inside him, and the way their breaths mix when their mouths meet. Pleasure rolls through him, making his hips buck and his cock thrust into his fist, his bones turning liquid as he pumps himself. He grunts, his mouth falling open, and come pulses over his hand and belly.

OoOoO

Carlisle's phone starts buzzing early the next morning with messages from Edward, including photos of his road trip with Emmett to Portland.

_I am out of coffee. This is a serious problem._

_Jesus, Emmett woke up on the wrong side of the futon._

_Traaaaaffiiiic, OMG._

Carlisle's heart thuds pleasantly as he looks at a photo of Edward, his face crinkled with laughter as he makes a grab for the phone. The messages make him smile, even when he doesn't have time to reply. He missed these quirky trains of thought flashing across his screen, even more than he realized.

OoOoO

"You're going to sprain something smiling like that," Carlisle says dryly.

He and Esme are standing in the long line at the _Forchette_ food truck, each pretending to ignore the other until Carlisle sighs.

"Just out with it already, Esme. You've got the worst case of perm-a-grin I have ever seen. I can tell you're dying to ask."

"Have a nice time at dinner last night?" Esme's smile is evident in her voice.

"I did, thank you. With Edward's help, I even managed not to burn anything."

Her eyes are warm when Carlisle looks at her. "I'm glad."

"Me, too," Carlisle replies with a grin. "It felt good to spend time with Edward again. I... I got used to having him in my life."

Esme's expression sobers and he can see that she is weighing her words carefully.

"I think you already know this, but Edward took it hard when you broke up with him."

He remembers the flickers of doubt that passed over the young man's face throughout their evening. His smile fades as he thinks of Edward's shorn head and he remembers the things Edward had said, sometimes tentatively.

"_I missed you."_

"_I don't have plans to go anywhere."_

"_This is important to me, too."_

Carlisle runs his hand roughly over his hair. "I'll make it up to him."

Esme opens her mouth to continue but stops when their turn at the food truck window comes up. They place their orders and argue gently about whose turn it is to pay. They're on their way back to the doctor's lounge with the bag when she speaks up again.

"What's bothering you, Carlisle?"

"I'm not sure. We had a good time last night and we talked a lot. I just feel as though..."

"_Don't you trust me at all?" _Edward's voice asks quietly.

Carlisle shakes his head. "Edward seems… spooked, somehow. Hesitant."

They sit at a table and unpack the bag of food, sharing containers of tempura meatballs and butternut squash ravioli in sage butter sauce. Neither mentions the absence of pignoli cookies or sweet-silly notes written on parchment paper; even without the trip to Portland, Edward would be cooking across town today.

Esme sips her water thoughtfully and gives her friend a searching look. "Has Edward told you how he lost his parents and came to live with us?"

"He said they were killed in an auto accident when he was twelve."

"Yes. He was staying over at a schoolmate's house while his parents had dinner with friends. When he woke up, they were gone."

Carlisle's heart aches anew for Edward's loss. They have talked about his parents on several occasions, but only once about the accident that killed them.

Esme runs her thumb thoughtfully over her lips, her eyes on her food. "Edward doesn't have any other relatives; both of his parents were only children and their parents had passed on. He lived in a few foster homes for the first several months before he was placed with a family in Seattle who were looking to adopt an older child.

"Things went well and paperwork to formalize the adoption was initialized. Before it could be filed, the husband's company moved him to an office overseas, in London. Edward went back into foster care."

"And the family that wanted to adopt him?"

Esme shrugs sadly. "He never heard from them again. He's never said so, but I think that it took him some time to give up on them. After losing his parents, he really wanted to belong somewhere. It was hard when that chance didn't pan out."

Carlisle swallows, trying to push away the ghostly image of that homeless, orphaned boy.

"But then he met your family," he says.

"Yeah, he did." Esme smiles, rolling a meatball in marinara sauce before popping it in her mouth and chewing.

"And that placement worked out well."

She nods. "My parents fell in love with Edward almost as soon as they met him. Hell, I did, too, and I was a misanthropic fifteen-year-old girl. It was hard not to love him, even though he was so reserved."

Carlisle's brows climb his forehead and Esme nods at his obvious surprise.

"Edward was very shy back then. He was quiet and careful... sad, of course, though he tried to hide it. It took him a while to feel comfortable enough to really let my parents in. He held back a lot of himself, and my mom thought that he was afraid to take a chance and have our family reject him too. He'd already lost so much."

"The poor kid," Carlisle mutters.

"A lot happened to him in a really short time," Esme agrees. "Some people turn inward after experiences like his. Edward... once he allowed himself to let people in, he became one of the most loving people I've ever met. My parents were happy with the family they had, but we all know how much our lives changed for the better when he became a part of it, too."

A frown works its way across her pretty face. "Losing people is difficult for him, even now. He's only had a few serious relationships and he's still friendly with nearly every man he has ever dated. He doesn't like to lose touch with the people in his life. It unnerves him when friendships just evaporate."

Carlisle blows out a long breath, the pieces of the puzzle falling together easily.

"Edward is... very attached to you, Carlisle." Esme's voice and expression are kind. "He was hurting after your split, and he may still worry that you're going to go cold on him again."

The man's assurances that he will do no such thing are interrupted when his beeper shrills, followed immediately by Esme's. Any discussion of Edward's frame of mind disappears in the dash toward the ER.

It's nearly four in the afternoon before Carlisle has the time to collect his thoughts again. He makes two coffees in the lounge, and hands one to Esme just as his phone buzzes with another text from Edward.

_Em's died and gone to clam chowder heaven. Idk how one person eats so much._

Carlisle hands Esme his coffee cup so his fingers can move over the screen to reply.

_Have dinner with me tonight?_

His friend is smiling curiously when Carlisle looks up, and he feels his face heat.

"Esme, can you help me figure out how to cook something besides pancakes?"

OoOoO

Fatigue from his trip shows in Edward's eyes when Carlisle lets him in, but his face lights up with a smile.

"Hey, doc."

"Hey, yourself," Carlisle replies, running his fingertips over Edward's buzzed head. He steps into the other man's arms, careful to avoid the paper bag in his hand as they exchange kisses. "What have you got there?"

"Cheese Danish," Edward says with a leer, handing over the bag. "We found the best bakery just before we got in the car to leave; I'm pretty sure Em ate his weight in cookies. These had just come out of the oven and I thought you might like them for breakfast-"

"There is no way in hell these will make it to breakfast, Edward," Carlisle says, peering into the bag while the other man laughs.

They talk and sip wine as Carlisle slices roasted chicken and arranges a salad of spinach and the most luscious red strawberries he could find in the market. Edward describes the road trip to Portland, and the little details in his stories make Carlisle smile. He talks of the meeting with the food truck owner, and his persuasive pitch to join forces with Edward.

"Afterward, Em and I walked around the city all afternoon, getting a feel for the place," he explains as they sit at the table on the balcony. "It's really nice and the food scene is good; we stopped a few times to try things. I can picture a _Forchette_ truck doing well there."

"But…?" Carlisle prompts, his eyes on Edward's thoughtful expression.

"But... it just didn't feel right." Edward runs his fingers over the tattoos in his sleeve absently, seeming to draw comfort from the sensation of skin on skin. "It doesn't seem like the right time, just now."

"You appear to be okay with the decision."

"I am." He smiles when he catches Carlisle's searching look. "It's an exciting idea, but I have a good thing going on with the trucks here, in my own city. I don't want to jeopardize anything by stretching too far, too fast. Things in this business are risky enough as it is."

They eat quietly for a minute, and Carlisle grins when Edward stops to examine his food, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"My sister coached you," he states rather than asks, licking his lips carefully, tasting. "This is her salad recipe."

"Maybe."

"_Definitely_. I know Mae's salad dressing when I taste it. Sesame, poppy seeds, white wine vinegar… she even told you to buy the same brand of paprika she uses, didn't she?"

Carlisle laughs loudly, enjoying the mischievous look on the other man's face.

"Jesus Christ, Edward. You're a little scary right now, you know."

"Hah, this is nothing. You haven't seen scary until you've had a meal with my staff and their culinary school geek friends; they freak me out on a regular basis."

"What, you're worried I couldn't handle it?"

"Oh, I'm sure you could." He rolls his eyes at Carlisle's smile. "I'm making them dinner next week, actually. Will you come?"

Edward's voice is light but his cheeks flush pink, betraying his nervousness over the invitation. Carlisle reaches slowly to run one thumb over the apple of the young man's cheek, waiting until Edward's eyes meet his before he answers.

"I'd like that very much."

OoOoO

The men move back inside the apartment after dinner, settling on Carlisle's sofa with more wine and the pastries Edward brought. They take turns feeding the sweets to each other, laughing and teasing, and exchanging slow, sticky kisses. Edward's eagerness is obvious, and his hands are more confident as they move over the other man's shoulders and back. He is climbing onto Carlisle lap when a distinctive ringtone fills the air.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Carlisle kisses Edward quickly before sitting forward and reaching for his phone on the table. "That's my dad."

Edward's smile is brilliant as he sinks back into his seat. "Your dad's ringtone is _Devil in Disguise_?"

Carlisle snorts as he gets to his feet. "Dad likes The King. Feel free to put a movie on or whatever. This shouldn't take long."

Carlisle's father is in a talkative mood, however. The family is busy planning a dinner later that month to celebrate the Cullens' forty-fifth wedding anniversary, and there are many little details to discuss.

Forty minutes pass before Carlisle makes his way back to the living room to find a baseball game playing on TV and Edward dozing in his seat. He sits down carefully, easing his body in beside the sleeping man. Edward shifts as the cushion dips under Carlisle's weight, but does not wake, and leans in with a soft grunt as one cheek comes to rest on the other man's shoulder.

Carlisle lets his eyes move over Edward's face, taking in the tiny freckles on his suntanned nose and cheeks, and the way his pink lips pout in his sleep. He resists the urge to run his fingers over the long, dark lashes that lay against Edward's cheeks or the silky skin of his forehead. Instead, he sits quietly, dividing his attention between the young man and the game, savoring the warmth and weight of the lean body fitted against his side.

Edward stirs midway through the eleven o'clock news, coming slowly back to the surface with a groan.

"Damn, I didn't mean to fall asleep," he says, his voice rough. "You should have woken me. Sorry, doc."

"Don't be. You look really tired." He traces the faint circles under Edward's eyes with one finger and frowns.

"My sleep's been shit lately. I guess it's finally catching up with me." He smothers a yawn as Carlisle's lips meet his temple. "I should probably go."

"You don't have to, you know. It's late, Edward, you're welcome to stay here."

Edward pulls back slightly, blinking sleepily at Carlisle. A shadow crosses his eyes before he speaks. "You don't mind?"

"You being here is the last thing I'd mind, Edward," Carlisle says, gently throwing the young man's own words back at him. He leans in for a soft kiss before murmuring against his lips. "Stay with me. Please."

He sighs when long hands frame his face, the other man's slim fingers moving easily over his skin. Edward kisses him deeply, making Carlisle's heart pound, his blood rush, and his cock harden.

They push and pull against one another's bodies until Carlisle is lying on his back with Edward between his legs. Carlisle can't stop his moan when their groins connect, and thinks his heart may actually stutter when Edward rocks into him. He bucks against the body above him, soaking in the heat and hardness, and his hands roam over Edward's back and ass as their bodies find a rhythm.

Eager hands slip under shirts, stroking the skin on ribs and arms and bellies. Edward wrenches his mouth away with a low hiss before burying his face in the other man's neck, his deep, wet kisses quickly driving Carlisle to distraction.

"Oh, fuck." His skin blazes as they rock together, the sound of ragged breaths and muttered curses filling the air while the young man presses so, so hard against him.

Edward pulls up onto his knees, bending to unbuckle Carlisle's belt, making the other man's breath hitch. In a flash, his trousers are open and a warm hand is sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers. They watch each other for a long, breathless moment before Edward's fingers wrap around Carlisle's cock. The man shudders, letting out a helpless noise of hunger.

His head spins with lust and emotion when Edward kisses him again. His hands move without thought, reaching for the other man's belt with shaking fingers. Always perceptive, Edward pulls away, glancing first at Carlisle's hands and then back to his face with questioning eyes.

"Shit, sorry, I'm all thumbs," Carlisle chuckles breathlessly. "I want to touch you," he says, groaning when Edward runs his own thumb over the head of Carlisle's cock. "Oh, God… that feels really fucking good."

"Mmm," the young man agrees. "I missed this. I missed kissing you, touching you. I missed the way your voice sounds when we're like this. You're so sexy, Carlisle."

"I missed it, too. I need to feel you." Carlisle bites back a moan when the other man leans in to kiss him again, his mouth hot and ferocious.

Eventually, they climb off the couch and move quickly through the little flat, kissing and pulling at one another's clothes. They're by the foot of the bed when Carlisle finally manages to unbuckle Edward's belt. His fingers are quick to open the button fly and slip inside the young man's boxer briefs, and he gasps when Edward's face crumples with desire.

Edward's neck and chest are flushed, begging to be kissed and sucked. Carlisle works his way over the overheated skin, lapping at the swirling black tattoos on the other man's skin. The moan that Edward utters when Carlisle's tongue flicks over his nipple is long and low, and goes straight through the other man's body.

He guides Edward to sit on the edge of the bed before stripping off the last of his clothes before sinking down to the floor. Carlisle draws the other man's jeans over his legs, leaning to kiss his pale, perfect skin he uncovers, and sighs when Edward's hands move to his hair. He works his way lower, pressing his lips to Edward's cock and grinning when the body beneath him jolts.

"Oh, fuck, Carlisle."

The fire burning inside Carlisle leaps higher when he takes Edward in his mouth. Low, broken words fill the air when Carlisle swallows around him, the mix of curses and pleading making them both impossibly harder. Carlisle drops a hand to touch himself and groans at the shift in pressure, the vibrations in his throat making the other man cry out.

"Ah, goddamnit," Edward mutters. "So good, so good."

Trembling hands guide Carlisle up and away from the hot flesh in his mouth, and Edward muffles his whine of protest with a searing kiss. They fall together onto the bed, Edward pushing the other man onto his back before reaching to stroke him with sure fingers. Now Carlisle is the one writhing, even as he tries to kiss whatever skin he can reach.

The young man rolls Carlisle's balls between his fingers and licks the other man's lips. "Want you so much."

"Yes." Carlisle's low voice wavers. "Need you inside me."

Carlisle closes his eyes when Edward rolls away, working to control his panting breaths. He pulls himself blindly along the mattress, falling onto the pillows as he hears the scrape of the nightstand drawer and the sound of foil tearing. The click of the lube bottle makes him moan, and his dick throbs when Edward gives a low hiss as he rolls a condom on.

The mattress beside Carlisle dips as cool, slick hands move between his legs, one on his cock and the other trailing up the cleft of his ass. His breath stops when a finger pushes inside, followed by a second, and he lets himself fall away into sensation. He squirms under Edward's teasing fingers and hungry mouth, and struggles to keep his eyes open to watch the beautiful man beside him.

"Fuck me, please, Edward," he rasps, grasping at the sweat-slicked skin on the other man's shoulders and arms until he climbs between Carlisle's legs.

Edward presses him into the sheets, kissing him as their bodies align. His eyes clench closed, however, when Carlisle's hands run over his ass and trace the skin behind his balls.

"You're gonna make me come, Carlisle," he warns breathlessly, opening his eyes and smiling when the man beneath him chuckles. "Fuck, don't laugh, I'm so wound up."

"I'm not laughing, babe." Carlisle sighs when Edward's eyes widen in wonder at his words. "I want to make you feel good."

He groans when the young man's dick lurches in his hand. Pushing him back gently, Carlisle gives himself room to turn over onto his hands and knees. Long hands are on him immediately, and both men moan when Edward's cock brushes against his ass.

Carlisle's head drops forward when Edward slides slowly inside, making him burn and stretch in delicious ways.

"Christ," Edward says hoarsely.

Carlisle hears his own breathless murmurs as he presses backward, Edward's hands rubbing circles into his skin and turning his muscles to mush. He bends forward when Edward begins to move, resting his head between his hands and fisting the sheets when the other man swears softly. Edward curls over Carlisle's back, wrapping one arm around the man's shoulders and the other around his waist, kissing his back and shoulders as they move together.

Carlisle reaches back blindly, using Edward's lean legs to anchor himself to the bed. The aching tingle in his belly spreads through his body, making his hands shake and his toes curl. He turns his face into the mattress, mumbling nonsensically when the young man's hand drops to fist him.

"Oh, God. More. Fuck, more, please, please."

Edward heeds his pleas, driving faster and harder, grunting with each thrust and the hand around Carlisle's cock pumps and strokes until he's soaring.

"Coming," he says brokenly. His dick lurches, come pulsing over Edward's fist and smearing the sheets, while Carlisle's eyes roll in his head and he rides the high.

He groans when Edward pulls away, and then again when strong hands flip his boneless body and the other man climbs back between his legs. Edward's strokes are deeper and slower when he slides back inside, like the kisses he presses against Carlisle's lips.

Carlisle's senses come back together. He twines his arms and legs around the young man's body, driving him deeper, pressing their bodies tightly together as Edward murmurs in his ear.

"Fucking good, Carlisle. So tight and hot."

"Come inside me, babe," Carlisle says, holding the other man when his back arches and his mouth opens in a low cry. "Let me feel you, Edward."

The young man's thrusting rhythm stutters. Edward's body flexes, a dark flush staining his chest before he buries his face in Carlisle's neck and comes. He leans onto one trembling arm, trying to keep his weight off the man beneath him, until Carlisle pulls him down onto the bed to press kisses into his skin.

OoOoO

Carlisle lies awake late into the night again, this time listening to the breaths of the man curled beside him. Edward's arm is warm around his waist, his hand splayed on his skin, and their legs are twined together beneath the sheets. Carlisle wonders what he dreams of when his eyelids tremble and his breaths change. From time to time, Carlisle drops his head, allowing his lips to brush against Edward's baby fine bristles, and breathes in the smell of soap and skin and man.

It's deep in the night when Edward stirs and wakes, inhaling slowly through his nose. His big eyes blink sleepily, taking a moment to focus on the man beside him, before his pink lips curl in a small smile.

"Hey, doc," he whispers, humming when Carlisle cups his cheek with one hand. "What are you doing up? You okay?"

"I'm glad you're here," Carlisle tells him simply. His heart squeezes when the young man's eyes shine.

"You're not just saying that so I make you breakfast tomorrow, are you?"

"No. We can go to the diner in Chinatown for breakfast, if that's what you want. I'm just happy that you're here."

"So'm I," Edward whispers. Slowly, slowly he closes the space between them, and captures the other man's lips with his own.

* * *

**A/N**

Aw. I flove them. Hope you enjoyed ;)

Jasper has been talking to me, too, in case you were curious. I can't promise a regular update schedule - I'm a terribly slow writer - so thanks for hanging in there with me, if you do. Discordia81 and I are working on an entry for the Public Lovin' Contest - I'll post info on my profile when we're ready. ;)

**Note:** _Devil in Disguise_ is a song released in 1963 by Elvis Presley.


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